


Just About Right

by BuckinghamAlice



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU - Comicverse, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckinghamAlice/pseuds/BuckinghamAlice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A visit to Clark's parents helps Clark and Bruce realize how strong their relationship is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just About Right

Clark and Bruce had been seeing one another for just over a year when Clark announced in his most pleading and wheedling tone that it was time for Bruce to meet his parents. “But I _know_ your parents,” Bruce had stated. “How can I meet them when I already know them?” Clark had sighed and rolled his eyes. “You know them as my friend. But things are different now, yeah?” Bruce sighed and nodded. “Yes, Clark. But…”

“But nothing,” Clark said resolutely. “This means a lot to me. And you just last night said that you’d do anything I asked you to.” Bruce managed a coy smile. “Yes, but I meant in bed, and you know it. It’s not fair to use what I said then against me when I’m in my right mind.” But Clark had just given Bruce a pleading smile and promised to make this up to him, and Bruce had reluctantly agreed because he really couldn’t say no to Clark.

So Clark and Bruce found themselves on the Wayne Enterprises private jet on their way to Smallville one Friday evening. “I could have flown,” Clark said in an almost pouty tone. “Absolutely not,” Bruce said as the flight attendant brought them both the drinks they had asked for. “You planned the trip, so I should at least get to pick the mode of transport.” Then, sipping his drink, he added, “Besides, you don’t have drink service or wi-fi or most of the amenities this plane offers. Matter of convenience, really.” Clark rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to argue. He had gotten his way, so he had no intention of starting a squabble over something minor. That was behavior for anywhere else and any other time – but not on this trip. Not in front of his parents.

Bruce was oddly calm as the private jet neared the small airport, but Clark was growing more and more tense. The two men _had_ settled into a companionable silence, with Clark watching out the window and Bruce reading the newspaper, but Clark began to fidget in his seat when he realized how close to his hometown they were. “Are you all right?” Bruce asked. “I’m fine, yeah,” Clark said absently. “But… were you going to change clothes before we land?”

Bruce set his paper aside and glanced down at his grey Armani slacks and sport coat and lightweight cobalt blue Tom Ford sweater and frowned. “Not enough?” he asked. Clark shook his head. “You just look so… you know… rich.” And Bruce really surprised Clark by laughing. “I honestly have no idea what to say to that. I mean, your parents know my financial situation… there’s really nothing we can do about that at this point.”

Clark sighed. “It’s not your money, per se… it’s… oh, never mind.” Bruce raised an eyebrow at Clark and started to ask him to elaborate, but decided not to, knowing how tense he already was. “Well, I’m afraid I don’t own anything more casual than this,” Bruce began. “I could leave the jacket. That ought to dress it down a bit.”

Clark put his hand on Bruce’s and smiled gratefully. “Thanks.”

When they landed and disembarked, Bruce part an arm gently behind Clark’s back and slid on his designer sunglasses. Clark smiled up at Bruce, put his arm around his back, and wrinkled his nose at him. “I hate to ask you this, but do you mind losing the sunglasses?” Raising his eyebrows, Bruce said, “Oh, yes. You do call these my ‘douchebag glasses.’” He took them off with a sigh. Clark smiled and gave Bruce an imploring look and a squeeze on the shoulder. “You make me sound like such an ass. I only called them that one time… just to piss you off. But I just think they’re a bit much for today… for Smallville.” Bruce shook his head with a sigh and squinted into the sun but said nothing.

The Kents were waiting in the terminal, both grinning happily, when they caught sight of their beloved son. Martha hurried ahead of her husband and let her son sweep her into a bear hug that lifted her off the ground. “Oh, my boy,” she murmured happily as he grinned. Once Martha was back on the ground, Jonathan gave his boy a hug and a pat on the back. Then they both turned to Bruce with sunny smiles. “Good to see you, Bruce,” Jonathan said cheerfully, shaking his hand. Martha kissed him on the cheek and asked, “And how are you, Bruce, dear?”

“I’m very well,” Bruce said with a smile, glancing at Clark, who was still beaming. “And how have you both been? It’s been far too long.” As they left the airport, Martha nattered happily about her work at the Smallville Community Chest and Jonathan’s good corn crop as Jonathan mentioned his trick knee but “otherwise good health.”

After the short ride to the Kent farm, Jonathan offered to give Bruce the grand tour of the property while Clark took his and Bruce’s luggage up to his childhood bedroom (where they’d be sleeping for the weekend) and joined his mother for a cup of tea. “Earl Grey with two sugars, yes?” Martha handed him a mug (his favorite mug – the one with the Grey Ghost logo – the one he got for Christmas when he was nine), and he sipped happily. “You remembered, Ma.”

She tapped her head after a sip of her own orange pekoe. “Etched on my memory.” Clark reached across the table and held his mother’s hand. “You seem very happy,” Martha said contentedly. Clark nodded, taking another loud sip of his tea. “Yeah, Ma, I am. I’ve been missing you and Pa.”

Martha gave a little chuckle. “We’ve missed you too, but that’s not what I meant. What I’m trying to say is that you seem happy with Bruce.” Clark glanced out the window and saw Bruce, standing with Jonathan near the barn, where they seemed to be having a good natured discussion about something. “I am, Ma. I’ve never been this happy and… comfortable with anyone. Relationship wise, that is.”

At that moment, Bruce and Jonathan walked in, laughing. “Oh, son, you’ve got yourself a fine young man in this one.” Jonathan clapped Bruce on the back and Clark reached over and took Bruce’s hand. “You’re right about that one, Pa.” Bruce gave Clark a genuine smile and squeezed his hand as Martha got up and made cups of tea for Bruce and Jonathan.

After another round of pleasant conversation, Clark took Bruce by the hand and showed him his childhood bedroom, because he knew Bruce had been very curious to see it. He felt you could tell a lot about a person by the way they keep their personal space, and he was curious to see if the Clark he knew bore any similarity to the Clark that went to Smallville High and went to Sunday school and did his chores faster than any kid in town. The first thing Bruce spotted when he walked in the room was a beat-up University of Kansas pendant over Clark’s old bed. This made him laugh, because he knew Clark didn’t go to U of K, nor did he ever really want to. There was a framed picture of Clark and his parents on the desk, as well as a notepad, a cup of chewed pens, and an old boxy computer that would have been outdated even when Clark was in junior high. Above the desk was a cork board covered with candid snapshots of Clark with his friends Pete, Chloe, and old girlfriend Lana and a few 4-H blue ribbons. There was a poster of Smallville’s local baseball team and another poster of Clark’s favorite band, the Gourmet Scum. On a rickety but comfortable looking chair were some extra blankets and pillows as well as Clark’s well loved childhood teddy bear, Cubbles, who was missing an eye and had a rip in his little overalls. The bookshelf was crammed full of books of all sorts (including pristine copies of the ones Clark had written), and on the wall above the bookshelf was the one thing his mother had added since he had moved out – a framed copy of a glowing review of Clark’s first fiction novel that she had clipped out of the New York Times.

“Pretty dorky, huh?” Clark asked, gesturing around at the place as Bruce drunk it all in. Bruce smiled and gave Clark’s hand another squeeze. “No, it’s perfect. It looks like you.” Clark laughed. “That’s what makes it dorky.”

It was soon time for dinner, and Martha had outdone herself. She had made a vegetable stew, cornbread, fried green beans with a spicy mustard dip, a salad of rocket and spinach with a dressing made of rosemary and dill from her own herb garden, and three different pies for dessert with ice cream from the fancy creamery they used to visit on Clark’s birthdays.

“Oh, Martha, that was a culinary masterpiece,” Bruce had said, after Martha insisted he take seconds (and Clark take thirds). “I hope I can convince you to write this recipe down for Alfred.” Martha had smiled, putting a pat of butter in another piece of cornbread (which she slid across the table to Clark), and said, “Oh, sweetheart, I haven’t used a recipe since my first couple of weeks as a bride. But you can tell Alfred to just throw ya’ll’s favorite vegetables in the crock pot with a roux. It’s one of my simple dishes, but my boy loves it.” Clark smiled. “That I do, Ma.”

After pie and ice cream, coffee, and more conversation, the Kents went to bed, and Clark wandered out onto the front porch. Bruce followed a moment later, and the two of them sat on the porch swing in a companionable silence, gazing out at the stars. Finally, Bruce broke the silence and said, “Do you know that if I was at home in Gotham right now, I’d be on a rooftop?” Clark leaned against Bruce’s shoulder and said, “And do you know that if I was at home in Metropolis I’d be in my bed, trying to sleep, but worrying about you?” Bruce smiled reluctantly, put his arm around Clark’s shoulder and leaned his head against Clark’s. “You never need to worry about me... but I… I guess I have to admit that I _like_ that you _do_ worry. It means a lot.”

Clark tipped his head and gave Bruce a quick, soft kiss and sighed. “ _You_ mean a lot. To me.” Bruce gave Clark’s shoulder a quick squeeze and said, “Let’s go to bed.”

The two went upstairs and changed for bed quietly. Bruce had on a comfy pair of plaid pajama pants, slung low around his waist, without a shirt. When he whirled around and saw Clark in a very childlike pair of flannel Super Mario printed pajamas with a classic button-up shirt and piping around the collar and cuffs, Bruce let out a laugh. “Oh, you may as well be wearing a chastity belt,” he said, once he had finally caught his breath.

Clark rolled his eyes. “Laugh all you want. My mother bought these for me and I’m wearing them.” Bruce chuckled again. “Well, they’re very cute. Almost irresistibly so.” Clark smiled and took off his glasses. Bruce put his arms around Clark’s waist and kissed him. Clark knew it would be prudent to let it go at just the one kiss, but with him and Bruce, one kiss was never enough. So he put his arms around Bruce’s neck and kissed him back, a little harder and deeper and felt longing stir within him.

Bruce fell onto Clark’s bed and gently pulled a willing Clark with him. Their kisses went from passionate to having a fevered intensity that made them feel like a couple of teenagers sneaking around after school, struggling to make the most out of every spare moment. As Bruce’s hands traveled to Clark’s waist and started to reach inside his pajamas, Clark grabbed his hand and reluctantly pulled away. “Bruce, we can’t do this here. I’m not going to have sex with you in my parents’ house.”

Bruce kissed Clark’s neck and sighed. “Now you’re being a tease. C’mon… you know you want to.” Clark sighed as well, biting his lip to stop from moaning at how good Bruce’s hands and gentle kisses felt. “Of course I want to, but we _can’t_. My folks will hear.” Bruce just continued to kiss Clark’s neck and jaw, his hands just inside the waistband of Clark’s pajamas.

“Oooh, that feels good,” Clark said. Then, trying to regain his composure but failing, he asked, “Do you think you could be really quiet?”

Bruce laughed softly, his face pressed against Clark’s neck. “Hey, I’m not the screamer.” Clark responded by giving Bruce’s behind a playful squeeze. They kissed again, and Clark stopped again. “But the bedsprings… they could hear the bedsprings.”

“We’ll just have to get on the floor, then, won’t we?” Bruce cooed, and Clark felt like he was about to swoon, like a girl in an old movie. As they repositioned themselves on the floor, Clark smiled when he realized that he couldn’t say no to Bruce anymore than Bruce could say no to him, and he wasn’t the least bit sorry about that.

The next morning, Clark woke up early, still wrapped around Bruce on the floor, and decided to go out and help his father with the morning chores. Clark dressed in some of his old work clothes at super speed and then ghosted down the stairs, hoping not to wake Bruce. He met his father in the barn, and they exchanged smiles, but went through the chores in silence. As they finished up and started to head back to the house (where anyone could smell pancakes, bacon, and eggs cooking), Jonathan tapped his son on the shoulder and gave him a look that plainly said he knew that his boy was keeping some secret. “I feel like there’s something on your mind, Clark,” he began. “Would you like to talk about it, while we’re out here in this healthy morning air?” Clark hesitated and then glanced back up at the house, where he could see Bruce stirring through his bedroom window.

“Pa, how did you know Ma was ‘the one’ for you?” Clark asked seriously, his brows knit together. “Was there some sign? Did you know in one specific moment or did it just occur to you over time?” Jonathan stopped to think carefully before answering. “Well, son, I don’t rightly suppose there was one moment that told me. There were just so many perfect little things about her – the way she felt in my arms when we were dancing, the way she laughed at my jokes even though we both knew they weren’t funny, the way we could argue over little things and still come out laughing, the way she cooks. I had already fallen in, head over feet, before I even realized it. I figured afterwards that I probably started falling the moment I first met her.” Clark nodded thoughtfully as Jonathan paused. “Any specific reason you asked? You pretty serious about Bruce, son?”

“You know, when he and I got together, it took me a little bit off guard,” Clark began. “We had been friends for so long before we even got to a point in our friendship where we talked to each other about real things. At first, we just talked about Superman and Batman stuff, but before we knew it, we could share Clark and Bruce stuff, too. And then after we became really good friends, maybe even best friends, we had this moment – this perfect moment, Pa. If I had to choose one memory to carry with me for the rest of my life, I think it would be that moment. And it was a while before I was sure that Bruce felt something real between us, too. Not just physical stuff.” He paused momentarily when he noticed his father looked a tad embarrassed at this last thought. “Don’t worry… I won’t go into details. It was just… it felt like just a fun thing that didn’t have to mean anything… until it did mean something. And it scared me, scared us both, I think… but we couldn’t deny it. And I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I guess it still scares me sometimes. I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve thought I was in love with people in the past, but none of them really compared to how I feel now.”

Jonathan patted his son on the back and said, “The way you feel right now, son, is really precious. Treasure it. Enjoy every moment of it. When you’re scared, that’s just all the more proof that it’s real.” Clark nodded and a soft, sideways smile spread across his face. But after a moment’s quiet reverie, he asked his father, “Would it disappoint you if I got… you know… serious about him? I mean, I know you like him and all, but I know you always imagined me with a wife and children and that sort of thing.”

“Well, do you love him, son?” Jonathan asked. Clark looked back to the house and saw Bruce in the kitchen with his mother. “Yeah, Pa, I do.” Jonathan smiled and put his arm around his son. “That’s all your mother and I ever wanted for you… to feel accepted and loved. The only way you could ever disappoint me is by not being true to your heart.” Clark hugged his father and choked back a tear. “I’m so glad I talked to you, Pa. Thanks.”

When the Kent men came back in the house, they were greeted with the sight of Martha cooking breakfast with Bruce as her very helpful assistant. He even had one of her aprons on (which delighted a laughing Clark to no end).

Later, after breakfast had been eaten and the morning dishes had been cleared, Clark took Bruce on a walk, and Bruce surprised Clark by letting him hold his hand. “I had a talk with my dad this morning and he helped me understand some things I’ve been trying to figure out about the two of us,” Clark began.

“Oh?” Bruce asked. “I didn’t know there were things you needed to figure out.”

“Nothing bad,” Clark rushed to reassure him. “The thing is that I know how I feel about you and I _think_ I know how you feel about me, but I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. If I was reading the signs right. But I know now… I just want you to know how much you mean to me and how much I like things with us. It’s as close to perfect as I could imagine. And I also want to apologize for telling you what to wear and not to wear and trying to keep us from squabbling like nature intends we do.” (At this Bruce laughed.) “The thing is,” Clark continued, “I was just nervous. I wasn’t trying to change you or boss you or anything. It was just so important to me that this weekend came off well. I wanted them to like you and you to like them.”

Bruce smiled at Clark. “And I understood that that was why you were being even more high maintenance than usual. I know how important it is to you that your parents approved of me… it was important to me, too.”

“I’m glad,” Clark said. “I just didn’t want you to think that I was trying to change you or anything. I mean, I like you more or less as you are.”

“More or less?” Bruce asked skeptically. “Yeah,” Clark said with a playful grin, “I mean, if I told you that you’re pretty much perfect in my eyes, you might get conceited. Then you wouldn’t be perfect anymore… it’s actually very complicated and meta.”

“There, you see, I _couldn’t_ be perfect,” Bruce said. “I’m absolutely crazy about you, and you’re clearly an idiot… so I must have terrible taste.” Clark rolled his eyes with a smile. “Oh, yeah, you do. Frankly, I feel sorry for you. How you must suffer because of me. How much longer are you going to put up with it?”

Bruce squeezed Clark’s hand. “I had planned on forever, possibly longer, if that suits you.” Clark turned and gave Bruce a soft kiss, their lips brushing against each other, more gently than the late morning breeze was blowing. “Forever sounds just about right.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this while I was frustrated with the sequel to Whiskey and Chocolate Cake (which will hopefully be ironed out soon). Please let me know what you think as I'm still getting the hang of writing these characters. And kudos to anyone who catches the Degrassi reference. =)


End file.
